Beyond The Blue Mountains - Plaidy Jean (читать книги бесплатно полностью без регистрации сокращений .txt) 📗

“Of course, darling,” she had said, ‘this is no permanent home! It is a stepping-stone to better things. Your father has told me so, and well you know your father is not the man to lie. He has said to me: “Kitty, my own love, this is not what I would wish for you!” And indeed I understand that, for is it what I have been used to!

“No!” he said.

“One day I shall make a fortune here, and then you shall have a fine house, a worthy setting for your beauty.” And, Carolan, do you think me still beautiful? What do you say? Have I aged much since you last saw me?”

She had indeed looked lovely with the candlelight to soften her face.

Carolan had laughed at her vanity, but had been unable to resist pleasing her charming, illogical mother.

Then Kitty cried a little, and laughed a good deal, and said she was happy, happy, happy that her own darling daughter had at last come home to her mother. She had kissed her tenderly; insisted on waiting until she was in bed, and tucking her in as though she were a little child. Carolan remembered sharply that when she had been a child, Kitty had not come to tuck her in. But such thoughts she quickly dismissed, because when Kitty was with her it was always difficult not to fall in with the bit of play-acting she was putting over at the moment.

Carolan put one bare foot out to the rug beside her bed; then the other. She pattered across the floor to the narrow window. Now she was looking down on the mean street. It was deserted, no doubt because of the earliness of the hour. The dingy houses opposite were so close that but for the curtains it would have been possible to see into those rooms behind them. When she leaned out of the window she could see the facade of the shop, but the door was shut and the old clothes which had hung in the doorway had been taken in.

She thought of Jonathan Crew’s words “These streets are as full of thieves as a warren is of rabbits.” She wondered why her father, if he had wanted a shop, did not have one in a busy thoroughfare such as some of those through which she had passed yesterday on her way from the Oxford Arms. Surely more business could be done in those busy streets. She thought of the ladies and gentlemen riding by in their carriages. They would not want to buy old clothes, of course, but there were other things in the shop.

She left the window and washed her hands and face in the basin. The water was cold and refreshing.

When she was dressed she opened her door and listened. There was no sound in the house; evidently her parents were not early risers. She smiled to herself, thinking what a good idea it would be to prepare breakfast and take it up to their room. Her mother, she was sure, would enjoy that. She tiptoed downstairs and along the passage to the shop parlour. There was a sour smell in the place, which she decided probably came from all those secondhand goods in the shop beyond.

A clock began to strike. One, two, three, four … right up to seven. She opened the parlour door and looked in at the shop. Light flickered through the shutters and fell on a pair of brass candlesticks; they glittered brightly among that hotchpotch of articles. Chairs and carpets, chinaware and silver, oddments of furniture, usually broken and decrepit; and everywhere old clothes. The striking, she saw, had come from a grandfather clock in one corner of the shop.

Carolan thought indulgently of her parents. She was beginning to suspect that her father was no shrewd business man. Why did he not arrange his goods more attractively? That confidence, which she had lost owing to her encounter with two thieves during her first hour or so in London, was returning. While she was awaiting Everard she would look after these two dear simple parents of hers. Oh, she could imagine them with their shop! No doubt her mother went through the stock and kept the most attractive articles for herself; and her father, poor sad man, would not say her nay. Oh, they needed looking after, these two parents of hers! Mamma was a child at heart … and Father? Terrible things had happened to him. His gentle expression and his smile were like a mask he drew down closely over his features lest you should read there what he did not wish you to. Kitty would never read anything she did not want to; but Carolan would read the truth if he as much as lifted that mask for a moment. And he was afraid that she would, poor darling.

She looked up at the bell over the door, which would warn her father of the approach of a customer; that was well enough. But why did he hang garments outside the door, in a place which was as full of thieves as a warren was of rabbits? Carolan clicked her tongue indulgently; he had probably lost lots of things that way, and most likely did not know it!

She heard a movement in the shop parlour, and turning, saw her father entering the room.

“Good morning!” she said.

“Good morning, Carolan! Is this a little tour of exploration?”

“Yes. I thought I would get breakfast for you and Mamma.”

“That is a kind thought, but your mother does not open her eyes until midday; I shall have mine now, because I have to go out this morning on important business.”

“You were going to get it yourself then?”

“Ah.” He had a very charming smile.

“I am a handy man, daughter.” He looked down at his hands, and she followed his gaze. They were gnarled hands, and one of the fingers of his right hand was missing. They seemed to be telling her so much, those hands; they made her want to weep.

There was a very tender note in her voice when she said: “You will sit down this morning, and I will get your breakfast.”

“It is difficult to work in a strange kitchen.”

“I shall discover very soon where things are kept.”

“How would it be, Carolan, if we got it together?”

“Excellent!”

He led the way. The kitchen was stone-floored and untidy. He watched her survey it with a faint pucker on her brows.

“Carolan,” he said, ‘you are like your mother … though different. I wish…”

“Well, Father, what is it you wish?”

That I could have given you riches and luxury. And Carolan, but for this thing which happened to me, I could have given you both comfort. Behold me, Carolan,.a most unfortunate man!”

She laid a hand on his shoulders.

“We are here now… all three of us together. That is good.”

“Yes,” he said slowly, ‘it is good; but it will not be for long, Carolan, for your lover will come for you.”

She turned away from his incomprehensible eyes.

“He will come for me, yes, but when we are married we shall see you often.”

“That,” he said, ‘will be delightful. Here is cold bacon and bread; a little pickled onion and ale. How does that appeal to you, Carolan?”

“Admirably. I am hungry. London air evidently agrees with me.”

He cut the bacon into slices: she cut the bread; and when they were seated at the table, she said: “It is exciting getting to know your father when you are a grownup person. I do not suppose that happens to many people.”

“Fortunately, no,” he answered.

“I might say “Unfortunately, no!” Just think! Had you known me when I was one, two, three, four, five, you might have had to punish me now and then.”

“I cannot imagine myself punishing you.”

“I was a very wayward child.”

“All the same, you and I would have come to an understanding about your waywardness.” He looked down at his hands again. How very sensitive he was about them! she thought tenderly.

“No, Carolan,” he went on, “I think it was well you spent your childhood in a fine old place like Haredon. I could never have given you so much luxury.”

“I was not very happy there. I should have been happier with you and my mother.”

She watched the colour come into his face.

“Ah!” he said, very eagerly.

“You would have preferred me as a father, to Squire Haredon?”